Dear Tatiana,

What an extraordinary combination. The eleventh hour of the eleventh month of the eleventh year of our century, not I am afraid the eleventh century. I might have looked out for Edward the Confessor walking Westminster.

But we were on the A1 travelling north. We put on the radio but rightly it was observing silence. The tracking device of the radio was sent mad by this sacrilege. Silence. It kept racing back and forth between the bands. I suppose an allegory of modern life. Later, talking to some people with some problems I realise how miserable we can make ourselves because we cannot let go. Learn, Tatiana, to let go and live in the silence of the present.